


Polished

by lar_laughs



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-28
Updated: 2006-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lar_laughs/pseuds/lar_laughs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy may be sixteen but she feels older than the others around her. Now that she's discovered what power is and can be, she wants more. Something is going on and she wants to know what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polished

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter, as well you should know by now.

Pansy had a hard time remembering what it felt like to be young. Even at sixteen, she felt older than most of the adults around her. Professor Flitwick, especially, set her teeth on edge. His chirpy voice, higher than most eight year old boys, had a way of weaving through all other conversation until it was the only thing she could hear. Everything about the man was small except his cheerful attitude that everything would turn out for the best.

"Just keep working on that spell and you'll have it yet," he'd continually told her as a struggling first year in his Charms class. She had finally got it but not because she'd been optimistic about her chances. It had been a lot of hard work, grueling hours alone in an empty classroom by herself so that none of the other Slytherin were ever aware that she didn't seem to pick up the proper wand strokes as easily as the rest of them.

There were times in that first year when she'd wondered if they'd made a mistake asking her to this school. When she'd heard the word 'squib', she'd felt the shudder run up her spine at the possibility that she might be the first Parkinson in a millennia to not have enough magic inside to work a wand. No cheesy encouraging phrases got her through. It was all hard work. Ever bit of it.

She thought of her first year whenever she watched Millicent carefully paint her nails the deep black she liked to wear. For a time, she'd done that, too. It had seemed like a way of belonging to this house full of black glances and even blacker hearts.

"We get you ready for the real world. Nothing else is real but what you'll face out there," someone had hissed at her the first night she'd spent inside these walls. Over time, she'd realized it was true. This was practice for what was waiting for them all outside the protective walls of Hogwarts.

For a time, she'd worn the black nails as a way of feeling strong in a group of other girls (and some boys) that wore the same polish. It had been a sign that she was willing to think and act the same way they did in this strangely comforting brotherhood she was now a part of.

"Why do you still wear that color on your nails?" she asked Millie suddenly, knowing her voice was crisp and biting when she saw the now familiar blank look come into the other girl's eyes. When she had seen that look for the first time, on a Sixth Year who had mistaken her for a typical Second Year, she'd discovered that she didn't need the black polish any longer. Power wasn't to be found as part of a group. When others reacted strongly to her, she felt the power in ways they never would.

"It makes my fingers look longer." The tall girl shrugged her rounded shoulders as if she didn't mind that Pansy had pointed out a default once again.

Pansy snatched up the bottle, hating that she was reminded once again of who she'd once been. When it smashed against the far wall, she didn't bother looking over at Millicent's face. There would be annoyance and fear battling it out on her face, her thin lips, her eyes. "Grow up, Millie. If you want to look elegant, try brushing your hair. Or better yet, wear a color that suits you. Black is for teenagers."

She mumbled something and Pansy shot a glare over her shoulder. "What was that?"

"We are teenagers," she said a little louder, the bed post suddenly an extremely interesting piece of furniture that she didn't seem to be able to pull her eyes away from.

Now they were the Sixth Years who whispered harsh words to the First Years, convincing them that working together as a unit would keep them safe and give them an identity. Some of them would learn, as Pansy had, that a group dynamic would only hold them back. Others would never learn that lesson, falling as easily into a group when they left school as they had here. She supposed, looking at it from the viewpoint of the master who picked so easily from the Slytherin House, that it was done this way on purpose. Boys like Goyle and Crabbe never had a chance, trained up from infancy to serve rather than be served.

"Here," Pansy said as she handed over a bottle of pale silver she'd grown tired of, "this is a better color for you."

Now Millie's silence was rich with apprehension. A kind gesture, after harsh words, was Pansy's trademark. It kept people on their toes as they wondered if the snake was going to bite again. No, not a snake, she decided as she enjoyed watching the new emotions flickering through Millie's hooded gaze. A sleek leopard that would as soon let you pet her as take a chunk out of the hand that got too close.

She smiled at the image all evening as she stood on the edge of the groups that huddled together in the Common Room. Business as usual for the rest of them, although Draco was unexpectedly absent tonight, his guardians looking stiff and uncomfortable as they stood in the middle of the room, unsure where their place was without their leader. She almost dismissed them until she realized here was another opportunity.

"Why hello, boys." The stunned looks weren't of interest to her as both boys always looked like they'd just stepped through a live electrical field. What did make her smile was their obvious discomfort at being spoken to. Clearly, they were hiding something. "Where's Draco?"

The fact that their faces suddenly revealed nothing gave her all the information that she needed. She smoothed the material of Goyle's shirt and smiled sweetly, letting them off the hook for the time being. "Do you remember when we were First Years?" she asked casually.

Goyle's cheeks flushed a deep red that hid his freckles while Crabbe continued to look confused. "Yes," they both stammered in unison, as if they were sharing a brain. She wondered if they really could remember since they normally had a hard time remembering what they had eaten for lunch on the previous day.

"We were friends, then. Weren't we?" They both nodded. "I think we should spend more time together, don't you?"

Yes, on days like this around people like these, Pansy felt every one of her sixteen years. It was too easy.


End file.
